


Failing Is What You're Good At

by Camerahead12



Series: Breathe With Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Autistic Emma (Supernatural), Beta Meg Masters, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Omega Dean Winchester, Police Officer Castiel, Scent Bonding, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camerahead12/pseuds/Camerahead12
Summary: All Dean ever wished for was to see the ocean.It was an ever present, constant hum inside that beckoned him to the blue waters. He knew, deep down, he would probably never make it to the other side of the states. Life hasn't handed him a lot of passes, but still he was doing alright.Living, surviving, and beating the odds was what he was good at. Everything thrown at him made him that much stronger. And with that strength he felt sure he could take on anything. Maybe one day his reward would be to see that ocean. Maybe one day he'd follow the hum deep inside and findhome.





	Failing Is What You're Good At

**Author's Note:**

> _"There are three deaths: The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time." ~David M. Eagleman_
> 
> This story is based on true events, though the names (obviously) have been changed into a work of fiction.
> 
> This story is dedicated to my own Meg. Who believed in me enough to help me get back my voice. 
> 
> I love you.
> 
> -Till then

This is a love story.

Not your typical, boy-meets-girl-fall-in-love story, but a love that caresses your soul, and moves you to do things you never thought possible; unimaginable things. It is a love that fills you with strength, and gives you wings. A love that gives you the courage to pick yourself back up off the floor, and pushes you towards your next obstacle with courage to face it. A love that never doubts, never judges. A love that, even after death, remains engrained so deep inside your heart it becomes a part of you.

Some stories aren’t meant to have a happy ending. Some people are simply put on this earth to live their lives each day just trying to find a way to survive. Sometimes all the pain, all the horrible situations are meant to happen to make a person into who they are today. Call it strength, if you will, but all they know it as just _enduring_.

It doesn’t have to be right. It doesn’t have to make sense. It simply just _is_. They are the people who, despite all of the pain, evilness, and worthlessness they feel and have seen, press on even if their feet are dragging with every step. They give others light so they might know the darkness they’ve had to live in. They offer sound advice so others may not stumble down the paths they’ve treaded so freely on.

They are the broken, put back together by their own scarred and bleeding hands. They are the worn down, just trying to make it through another day. They are the damaged, flinching at the simplest touch, yet craving for a warm embrace. They are the survivors, grasping to that frayed rope dangling them over the edge.

And they are stronger than you could ever dream to be.

This is a story of hopelessness, desperation, and loss.

This is their story.

***

“You need to leave.” Dean says, walking up behind Michael.

The beta scoffs, shaking his head. “You're keeping me from seeing our daughter.”

Dean narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. “No, I'm not. You're welcome here anytime; you choose when you see her, and when you don't. That's not on me. As for today, this isn’t working. You’re not going to be here when you’re angry.”

Dean watches as Michael picks up Emma and nuzzles her neck. Emma whines softly, burying her face into the side of his neck. Dean swallows down an apology and crosses his arms. He refuses to back down and continue to be the pushover. The doormat. The one to always apologize, even if he hadn't done anything wrong to begin with. After five years, he was finally putting his foot down.

Michael turns and heads towards the door, Emma still in his arms. Dean follows behind, hair prickling on the back of his neck. Something isn't right. Why isn’t he putting Emma down? As if sensing his unease, his eleven year old, Claire, follows closely behind her papa.

Dean watches Michael slip his shoes on, still holding tightly to Emma. Her green eyes are wide, glistening with unshed tears. He knows it is hurting Emma seeing her Daddy for only an hour, but the time he’s spent here has filled the small apartment with the smell of burnt popcorn and sour milk. His anger from their previous phone conversation hasn't even remotely gone down, no matter how calm Michael perceives to be. It wasn’t good for Emma, or any pup for that matter, to be around that. He knew his own scent was more than likely was making his girls uneasy, too.

Michael stands in front of him, still holding Emma tightly in his arms. His eyes flicker from the door back to Dean. Dean’s fingers twitch to reach forward and grab his daughter out of the beta’s arms. His protective instincts were screaming at him to do something, but anything sudden sets Emma off into one of her meltdowns. With the apartment already stinking of anger and unhappiness, Emma is already on edge.

“Put Emma down.” Dean says relieved his voice doesn’t break for once.

Michael quickly pushes his body against Dean's, growling. “You will not control what I do with my daughter!”

His inner omega whines at the beta’s anger. Everything in Dean is screaming for him to submit and cower back. Michael may not be an alpha, but his tone bleeds with authority. After obeying him for years, old habits are hard to break. Emma lets out of loud whine, snapping Dean out of his inner turmoil. This is about his daughter, her safety. He cannot be that pathetic bitch omega everyone thinks he is. He is stronger than that.

“You need to put her down and leave!” Dean growls, pushing his body back against the beta. He reaches his arms for his daughter, attempting to grab her. 

Michael turns his body just enough so Emma is out of reach, holding out his free arm preventing Dean from moving forward. He steps backwards slightly, closer to the door. Immediately his omega screams _protectsavedaughterprotect._ Dean feels his claws extending and he knows his eyes are flashing gold. He snarls, reaching for Emma again.

“Give me back my daughter!” Dean snarls, clawing Michael's arms, trying to grab for Emma again. Beside him, Claire lets out a low growl, defending her papa’s actions.

Suddenly, Dean’s head is knocked sideways. Everything is frozen as he stares at the wall trying to catch his mind up with what just happened. He brings his fingers up to his lip that is split and already starting to feel slightly swollen. Emma stares at him, tears dripping down her face. Michael stares at him with humor hidden behind his eyes.

“I told you you need to calm down, omega!” Michael growls, his words coming out more of a taunt.

**

For years Dean swore he wouldn’t go back to who he was; some worthless piece of shit, whore omega who said all the wrong things at all the wrong times. The type of person people could just kick around, and made the brunt of everyone’s joke. His best friend, Meg, had spent two years trying to get him to leave Michael. The emotional abuse he dealt with daily had Dean convinced that this was all he was good for. It was better than what he had dealt with. If he thought too much about where he had been before he met Michael, it almost made him physically sick. He didn’t deserve the white picket fence life. Hell, he didn’t know any omega to actually have it. A roof over his daughter’s head, and food in her their belly was more than generous. He could live with the fact he was some stay at home omega bitch, left to take care of some wanna-be-alpha kids. Still, the worthless thoughts of himself eventually turned into fear of actually trying to get out. It was like some fucked up kind of touch starved Stockholm syndrome, and he knew it.

Dean took literally anything he got, regardless of the fact he knew he was being cheated on and used. Dean had convinced himself that maybe if he tried a little bit harder to be sexier or to be a little bit more “fun” Michael would stop going to the bars. Stop searching for the “perfect” omega. Someone who would bow down and treat him like the “alpha he should be”.

Dean could take everything because at the end of the day, Claire was in a bed, not out on the streets with him. She had a full belly and toys to play with. Even when Dean went through his heat every month, and Michael refused to help because he was too “tired”, or simply look at him in disgust, walking past him, rolling his eyes. Dean would just curl up on the bed, clutching his cramping stomach, and try his best to seduce the beta. Michael would often complain of the sheets being “disgusting”, and his scent was just “too revolting” to be around, and choose to sleep elsewhere.

It came down to Dean knowing he couldn’t make it on his own. He had tried and failed. If he chose to leave, he would just be a single parent omega, no place to go, with a kid from some other deadbeat beta, with no alpha. He knew what happened to omega’s like that. He had been there before Michael came into his life. So he kept living with Michael. It was better.

**

Michael pushes his arm forcefully against Dean’s chest as Dean bares his fangs, still clawing at his arm. Emma begins to wail, calling out for Dean. He digs his claws into Michael’s arms, scratching and drawing blood. Michael stares at him with a hint of a smile across his lips, completely unfazed at Dean’s actions. It only angers the omega more.

Suddenly, Dean’s head is knocked sideways, again. His claws fall away from the Michael’s arm, falling limp at his sides. He hears Claire whine, her heavy footsteps hurrying away. Emma’s wails fall silent as he turns his head meeting her bright green eyes with his.

Rage builds up inside him so quickly he doesn’t realize he’s hit Michael until after the red dims from his vision. His hand throbs, claws fully extended into dangerous points. Emma is reaching for him, trying to get around Michael’s turned body.

“Give me Emma! Give me back my daughter!” Dean snarls, reaching for his pup again. “Claire! Claire, grab your sister!” Michael puts his hand against Dean’s chest, slamming him back against the wall. He desperately trying to push free, still trying to reach for his daughter. “Claire help Emma! Claire!”

***

Dean had happened to meet Meg through one of Michael’s parties he threw right when they got together. Meg was a sassy spitfire beta, but happily mated to handsome beta named Cole. They hung back against the wall talking while the party was in full force around them. It was surprisingly easy to talk to her, even though she was blunt and refused to sugarcoat anything. They exchanged numbers before Meg left for the night, and they talked on the phone every night since then.

Dean had questioned the beta once on how and why she called him every night. Meg just chuckled and said Cole worked second shift as a prison guard, and Michael was napping before work, so why not? Dean tried to understand that level of friendship Meg was showing him, but really just didn’t get it. There was always so much darkness in his world, how could he ever be sure? No one had ever bothered to stick around before in all his twenty-five years of life, so why would she? He didn’t have anything to offer her, aside from sex, and she made it clear she only ever wanted Cole.

As they grew to know each other better, Meg could tell he wasn’t happy. Not really. No matter how chipper Dean always tried to sound or nonchalant about something Michael said or did, Meg saw right through it. After being together with Michael for a year and some change, Dean stopped trying to defend Michael’s actions. Meg started calling to check in more frequently throughout the day. Since meeting each other, they had only seen each other a handful of times. Always at Michael’s house, of course, never under Meg and Cole’s.

Every day they talked, Meg tried to gently (as she possibly could, which honestly wasn’t very) to convince him to leave Michael. She and Cole would help him and his daughter until Dean was able to get on his feet. Every day, for weeks, months, Meg would talk to him on the phone, slowly building back up Dean’s self worth, convincing him that being a single, unmated omega didn’t have to mean he was back on the streets. She wouldn’t allow it. After a year, Dean told Meg he was doing it. He was ready. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He didn’t want Claire to think this was okay.

And then he found out he was pregnant. The doctors had told him it was impossible. His previous life, (before Michael came waltzing in and pretending like he was going to fix everything and take care of him) left his body scarred, abused, and broken. So much damage was done to his reproductive organs; the doctors said the chances of him having another pup were .01%. 

Dean had Meg drive by and pick him up. He told her to just to drive and she complied. She drove aimlessly, letting him freak out in her car away from Michael. Her of campfire smoke and ocean water scent turned heavy and filled the car, making Dean’s nose twitch and stomach turn.

Still, Meg drove aimlessly, letting Dean ramble on about statistics and how this must just to a sign he wasn’t suppose to leave the beta. The fact that Michael was a beta and _still_ managed to knock him up must be a sign. When Meg eventually pulled back up to Michael’s house, she tried telling Dean he was still able to leave; That there was still a place for all three of them at her apartment with Cole. A pup wasn’t a reason to stay with someone. Dean got out of the car, telling Meg he would think about it.

Nine months later, Dean and Michael welcomed an adorable, red headed, little baby girl into their world. Everything seemed to be okay.

The day they took her home, Dean could tell something wasn’t right. By the next morning Emma was having trouble breathing, and couldn’t drink her milk. He groggily bundled up the new pup and drove her back to the hospital. The doctors questioned him on where his alpha was. Saying he had none, the doctors quickly looked her over, declared she had RSV, and sent her home without any treatment.

A year passed by steadily. Meg came around more frequently, cuddling up to Emma any chance she could get, and sitting outside with Dean talking for hours on end while Emma and Claire slept. Michael was hardly around, claiming he was working overtime constantly, which really didn’t bother Dean anymore. Any love they might have shared before Emma’s birth had seemed to almost fade away. When Michael was around, Dean felt annoyed more than anything with his unconscious body splayed across the couch. Emma would hit the beta with toys trying to wake her papa. The beta only ever replied with turned over on the couch, pulling his blanket up over his head.

A year and a half since Emma’s birth, she still wasn’t sleeping through the night. She was constantly sick and in and out of the hospital with lung infections and trouble breathing. If anyone came around her with a cold, she would instantly get it, but a hundred times worse; fevers in the hundred and twos, unable to come down. The doctors were clueless as to what was going on. They claimed she just had a low immune system from having RSV at such a young age, and she would grow out of it.

Meg came around every other day, if not every day, to try and give Dean some sanity. When his heat would hit, Meg slept on the couch with little Emma curled up in her arms. Meg always made it her mission to casually throw in comments about how he should leave Michael, that this wasn’t healthy for his pups or himself. When his heat was at its worse, she would remind him some nice alpha or beta was out there just waiting to meet him and take care of him. That he shouldn’t suffer like this alone. In all honesty, Dean was running out of excuses about why he couldn’t or how impossible it was. Everything Meg was saying was making more and more sense.

**

“Calm down and you’ll get Emma back!” Michael growls, grabbing Dean’s arm and squeezing it painfully. 

Dean bares his fangs, biting back a hiss of pain. He tries to shake his arm free, but Michael pushes his body up against him, backing him into the wall even more, unable to move at all. His eyes glance back from Emma’s tear streaked face to Michael’s sneering grin. Dean gave one last look at his baby girl, letting his body go limp against Michael’s weight.

**

One night after he _finally_ had gotten Emma to sleep, and Michael’s five pups had gone home to their mother, he decided he needed to catch up on laundry. Dean walked downstairs to the laundry room, and robotically started tossing in clothes into the washer. As he was tossing in clothes, a sock flew past the washer, landing somewhere behind it. He moved the washer out from against the back wall to grab it. That’s when he saw it. Black mold stretched from one side of the wall, all the way to the other. Dean quickly whipped out his phone and turned on his flashlight scanning all the spaces hidden away in darkness. It was everywhere. It even stretched to underneath the steps.

Dean took pictures of everything, and called Meg to tell her what he found. She growled low over the phone and swore if Dean didn’t take “their” baby out of there, she would come in and do it herself. The mold was probably the reason Emma has been sick since she was born. He had been breathing it in the whole time carrying her, and then she was brought into the house to continue breathing it in. It was killing her.

The next day, Dean confronted Michael with the pictures and his discovery. Michael shrugged nonchalantly at the discovery. He claimed he knew about it, and it had been there since his last omega had lived here.

“But I told you about it, remember?” Michael said, sipping his beer.

Dean scrunched up his forehead, trying to remember having a conversation about any mold whatsoever. “No. No you didn’t. I wouldn’t have moved in with Claire if there had been mold. Hell, Michael! Even I’m allergic to fucking mold.”

Michael laughed and took another pull on his beer. “You’re confused, Dean. I did tell you about it. It’s always been here.”

“It’s making Emma sick.” Dean said, looking down.

“She’s fine.” Michael scoffed, face growing stern. “You say she’s always sick, but she seems fine to me.”

Dean looked over at their pup sitting on the floor playing with blocks. Her fair red hair was sticking up every direction, and her green eyes had dark circles underneath from lack of sleep. “She’s been up every night this week coughing.”

Michael shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. “I never hear her cough. I’m sure you’re over exaggerating things again.”

Dean flinches, sinking further into the back of the chair. Even if he isn’t in love with Michael anymore, words still hurt. Especially words about him “exaggerating” things, pretty much calling him liar. That is all he has ever heard before Michael found him. That is all he ever hears from Claire’s worthless beta father.

Despite the lack of love in their relationship after three years of living with the man, shouldn’t he at least care about him just a little? He’s been taking care of the house and his five other pups, along with Claire and their own. Doesn’t that mean anything?

When Michael passed out on the couch, Dean packed up Emma into the car seat, and drove to the Omega Housing Authority. The building smelled strongly of scent neutralizers making his nose burn and Emma whine against his chest. A short, graying haired lady greets him through a heavy double layered glass window. He asked for an application, and it is passed through a little opening at the bottom. Dean gives the lady a small smile, grabbing the papers with a shaky hand.

On the way home, he slowly passes by the little area of apartments clustered together a block away from the main office. There had to be over one hundred tiny apartments all clumped together to house omega’s and their families. Dean has heard stories of what goes on there, but honestly anything is better than where they are right now. He has been through worse before, and he can get through this too. He will make himself stronger for his pups.

Six months later, a few days before Emma’s second birthday, he got the call they had an apartment for him and the girls. He accepts immediately, asking when the soonest they could move in. In three weeks the place could be theirs. Dean calls Meg right after he gets off the phone, and they celebrated over the phone until Michael comes over to see where Dean is.

Telling Michael was more difficult than Dean thought it would be. Yes, Michael is emotionally abusive, a manipulator, a cheater, a liar, and cold at times, but he still has his good moments. He had housed Dean and Claire for four years, fed them, and given him an adorable daughter. They had a past, and like all things, it wouldn’t just go away.

Michael, of course, gets mad. He closes off from Dean, and grows cold towards Claire. He makes little snide comments about Dean moving and not having a job or any means to take care of himself. He tells him he will just end up back on the streets, whoring himself to anyone who will show him attention. Michael even goes as far to as far to say the state will take away Emma and Claire after they find out who he truly is., and what he’s done

When Dean tells Meg about the comments, she counters the remarks with how strong he is. How he is taking care of his family, and being a good daddy-a good omega. How he is now free to live his own life, and doesn’t have to tiptoe around anymore. About how he could go out and get a job, _anywhere_ , and use that money for _anything_. She reminds him that his weekends are now free to spend with his kids, doing and going _wherever_ they _pleased_. They wouldn’t have to be weighted down with the fear of leaving Emma alone with a drunken or sleeping Michael, or his pups taking care of Emma.

He would be and is _free_.

A month after moving in, Dean is on the phone talking to Meg and hears Emma screaming. Not your typical nightmare scream, but a blood curdling, gut wrenching scream. He tears upstairs, ripping the door open, and turning on the light. He runs over to her crib trying to console her, but that only makes her scream louder.

“Papa! Papa!” She screams, tears escaping from her closed eyes.

“Papa’s here, baby girl.” Dean replies calmly, reaching for her again.

“Dean, what’s going on?!” Meg asks frantically over the phone.

Emma’s eyes open, and Dean gasps at the brightness they hold. They are greener than he has ever seen them. It is almost as if they are glowing. Her pupils dilate and undilate, focusing on nothing, and then she starts screaming and thrashing again. Emma’s claws (which Dean had never seen her have before), extend.

“I have no idea what the fuck is going on!” Dean hisses in the phone, sitting on the edge of his bed watching Emma in her crib.

“Let me wake Cole up and tell him I’m leaving.” He hears her keys jingle in the background. “Stay with me, Winchester. Tell me what’s going on.”

He looks over at Emma, who has gone quiet. She is lying down on her side, panting and staring off into nothing. Her bright eyes don’t blink. Dean creeps closer, bringing down a hand to brush her sweaty red hair from her face. Dean feels her tense beneath his finger tips, watching her pupils dilate again. Another ear piercing scream rips from her throat. Dean jumps back just in time to avoid Emma’s claws.

“She doesn’t know who the fuck I am, Meg! It’s like she’s…” Dean ran his free hand through his hair, watching Emma arch her back in some kind of painful twist. “It’s like she’s fucking possessed.”

“I am leaving town now. I should be there in ten minutes.” She replied calmly. “Possessed, eh? Our little Em is trying to become the next exorcist?”

“You’re not here, Meg. You don’t see her bending like she shouldn’t bend…” Dean watches as Emma collapses and quiets again. “Her eyes…I’ve never seen her eyes so fucking green. It’s unreal. It’s like neon, almost. And they keep dilating and undilating.”

“Maybe she’s having a bad dream.”

“My kid wakes up if you breathe too loudly, and you’re telling me she’s sleeping through me talking to her, and her own screaming?”

Emma lets out a shaky breath, and Dean peers into the crib again. She lies on her side, staring out at nothing again. “Emma?” He tries.

She doesn’t respond, just keeps staring. He bends down, cradling the phone on his shoulder, pushing against his ear, and picks up Emma. She immediately tenses, and he feels her tiny claws dig into his shoulder. As quickly and gently as he can, he lays her in his bed. She screams, and scoots back as far as she can away from him.

“No! No! No!” She screams, and Dean feels his heart breaking.

“What the hell did you just do?” Meg asks.

“I tried to pick her up to comfort her…” Dean stands beside the bed watching Emma arch her back again. “She looks like she’s in pain.”

“Leave. Leave the room, turn off the light. I’m about fifteen seconds away. Let me in.” Meg hangs up the phone.

Dean glances down at Emma again, noticing she’s gone quiet once more. He backs away to the door, and flips off the light. She doesn’t make a noise. He slowly closes the door, leaving it open a crack and waits. Nothing. He bolts down the stairs, and unlocks the door just as Meg pushes herself in.

“Made good time, didn’t I?” She smirks at him. “Ten minutes. That’s a new record.”

Dean shakes his head. “How fast were you going?”

“Eh, somewhere in the hundreds.” She cocks her head to the side. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Meg, I swear she was just screaming! You heard her!” Dean points to the stairs. “She didn’t even react when I shut off the light. She’s terrified of the dark.”

Meg hums and shrugs off her coat, tossing it on the floor. Dean follows her dark bouncing curls to the stairs, and they climb up them as quietly as possible. Every creak and groan they give off, makes him flinch. At the door Meg turns to him and puts her long fingers to her lips to hush him. She opens the door and slowly approaches the bed. She bends down, sitting on the edge, and runs a hand over the sweaty red hair.

“Emma, baby.” She coos. “Emma love, come here and see Aunt Meg.”

Emma stirs a little bit, but remains lifeless staring at nothing again. Dean walks closer to the edge of the bed, following Meg. He watches Emma blink a few times, beginning to whimper. Meg scoots up and curls around her. Emma buries her face in her neck, taking a few shaky breaths.

“She’s…okay.” He tilts his head. “But she was…but Meg, you heard her!”

Meg nods at him, pulling Emma closer to her body. “Maybe it was a bad dream.”

“She was awake. Her eyes…They were this unreal color of green. And they kept dilating…” Dean sits on the edge of the bed, watching Emma poke her head out of Meg’s dark hair.

Dean holds out his hand towards Emma, giving a small smile. “Hey baby girl.”

Emma lets out a loud cry, backing away from him. Dean retracts his hand quickly, flinching at the rejection from his two year old.

Meg cradles the sobbing pup, sitting up rocking her in her arms. She begins to hum some familiar tune Dean can’t quite place, and Emma’s grip on her shirt relaxes. Dean stares at them, a mixture of jealousy and rejection passing through him. _He_ should be the one his pup wants and needs. _He_ should be the one to calm and protect Emma.

Meg bends down and places Emma in her ransacked crib, and gently placing her blankets over her. She turns to Dean and nods her head towards the door. He numbly walks forward and down the stairs to the living room. Meg walks past him and into the kitchen to retrieve her coat. Dean follows, throwing his leather jacket on, following Meg outside.

“Knock it off.” She says lighting up a cigarette. “You reek so strongly of rejection I can smell you.”

Dean grunts, toeing the frozen ground. “Whatever.”

Meg takes a few drags off her cigarette, leaning back against the apartment building. “You’re still her papa. In the morning she’ll only want you. She was just having a nightmare, or something. She loves you, Dean.”

Dean glances up at her just as she inhales the cigarette, casting her face in a odd orange glow. Her dark eyes staring at him like she’s waiting for something.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “For, ya know.” He waves a hand at her car in the parking lot.

She laughs, smoke spilling out her mouth like a dragon. “Anytime, Deano. You, Claire, and Emma are family. I’d do anything, and be anywhere you needed me, anytime.” She takes one last drag off her cigarette and winks at him in the brief orange light. “We’re kinda stuck with each other now. I mean, we pretty much raised Emma together. That makes us family, idiot.”

Dean laughs, feeling all the negative thoughts leave his body. She isn’t wrong.

A few months of living on their own, Claire comes forward and tells Dean what Michael’s oldest son had been doing to her for years. The police became involved, investigations held, but no arrests are made. One of the sexual therapists attributes Emma’s mental and physical development, as well as night terrors to probable sexual abuse. With her being so young, and unable to speak no one will ever know. Michael’s son, in the end, confesses to sexually molesting and raping Michael’s two other daughters consistently for the past four years. He doesn’t say anything about Claire or Emma.

The very mention of someone touching his pups has Dean so angry his fangs and claws were extended the whole time during the investigation his pups had to go through. The police do not make matters better telling him to calm his “overprotective omega hormones”, or he will be taken some place he can “calm down”.

From that day forward Dean tells Michael under no circumstances will Emma ever be at his home until the mold is completely taken care of, and Dean can be sure his son isn’t there. Dean offers his apartment to Michael whenever he wants to see Emma. He even gives the beta a spare key.

Months went by before Dean gets a letter in the mail saying allegations Claire and Emma stated are deemed “unfounded” and no further process on the matter will be necessary. Dean tears the letter up in a million pieces, lighting them on fire in the kitchen sink. The sexual therapist Claire is seeing believes her, and is helping her cope; and the legal authorities-“the system”- wants to say his pup is a liar?!

Dean will be damned if anyone ever lays another hand on either of his pups again.

A year later, Omega Housing Authority moves Dean into a new apartment on the other side of town; Meg calls him to say Cole is moving to North Carolina. He is finally able to chase his dreams of being in the Air Force. She tells him she is staying back to make sure their house sells, their kids can finish out their school year, and it gives Cole enough time to find them a place to stay on base. Dean feels that old twisting in his gut again of rejection and abandonment.

During the time he was with Michael he had lost any and all friends he might’ve had. Meg is the only person who has never left him, no matter what he did or said. She has been there, helping him when he couldn’t function, watching his pups when he went into heat, and literally coming to his aid whenever he called. Now she is leaving to move thousands of miles away.

She is leaving. Just like they all did.

“That’s, uh, that’s great Meg.” Dean kicks the brick wall of his apartment, pushing the phone closer to his ear. “When…When do you leave?”

“Whenever the house sells, I guess.” She says over something crinkling in the background. “Sorry, packing up a few things.”

Dean stares up at the stars, that tight feeling in his chest threatening to squeeze out the air in his lungs. “It’s like it is meant to be, though.”

The crinkling stops. “What’da mean?”

“You smell like…sea water. Campfire and sea water.” Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Just seems like it’s where you were meant to be.”

“You can smell that, huh?” The crinkling starts over the phone. “Never really put too much thought into my scent, I guess. Being beta you always tend to have a muted smell, and I don’t really notice any one else’s unless it’s a really strong emotion.”

“While I was pregnant with Emma my sense of smell was hyper aware of everything.” Dean states, clearing his throat. “I’m gunna let you go, though. Emma’s crying.”

“Aw, tell my gorgeous girl I miss her!”

Dean hangs up the phone without responding. He makes a vow to himself, underneath the stars, that he will never let another person hurt him again. He’s done with rejection and people leaving him. He will never again allow himself to love, or get close to anyone else. He can’t take that kind of pain, anymore. It feels like he’s dying inside.

Over the course of a year, Meg and Dean see each other three times. The last time he sees her, she comes over with her pups for the Fourth of July. The fireworks shoot out from a building about two blocks away from his apartment, so his front lawn is a prime spot to watch.

Claire and Meg’s pup huddle together, glow sticks waving back and forth with excitement. Emma clings to Meg, eyes wide at the bright colors in the sky. The bulky, sound canceling headphones push awkwardly on her head as she tries to bury her face in the beta’s neck. Dean doesn’t watch the fireworks, that night. He watches both his pups laughing. He watches Meg’s lips curl up into her usual mysterious smirk, and her dark curly hair surround Emma like a protective wing. He listens to them all laugh at anything and everything, just purely enjoying the moment.

They hug for longer than probably deemed normal for two people simply friends. He buries his face into her neck, breathing in her scent deeply. The smell of campfire smoke clouds his senses, and the sea salt prickles his nose making him want to sneeze. He muffles a whine with a cough, backing away slowly, forcing his scent to stay neutral. Meg eyes him curiously, and tells him how proud she is of him. She promises she will get him down to their apartment, it’s right by the beach. She promises she will fulfill his only bucket list wish and will show him ocean.

When Meg is backing out of his driveway, she waves and promises that they will see each other soon. Dean nods and waves in response. Something inside him feels like it’s shattering, breaking apart and stabbing him from the inside. A quiet voice in the back of his mind is telling him that this is the last time he will ever see Meg again. Dean shuts the door, locking it, and makes his way upstairs to his girls.

*** 

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?” Michael sneers, stepping back.

Dean stumbles forward a bit, the beta’s weight no longer holding him up. He glances up at Michael’s face, then at Emma, grabbing her from him quickly. Michael lets go of Emma, and Dean clutches the pup to his chest tightly. He rubs his face against her neck, scenting her, trying to calm her wet sobs.

He half runs, half stumbles back into the living room, away from Michael. Claire is curled up in the corner next to the stairs, arms over her head, sobbing hysterically.

Dean grabs her shoulder, gently, pulling her up. “Upstairs Claire. It’s okay. We gotta get upstairs. C’mon baby.”

He tightens his grip on Emma as she sobs louder into his neck. Dean pulls Claire tighter to the side of him as they climb the stairs then enters Emma and his bedroom. He closes and locks the door, sitting down on the edge of his bed, mind feeling completely numb. Claire buries her face into the other side of his neck, gasping and sobbing. It only hits him, then, that Emma is repeatedly saying, “daddy! Daddy!” through her sobs.

Dean pulls his girls tighter to his sides, trying to listen for any indication Michael is still in his apartment. He strains his ears for any noise, but they twitch only at the sounds of his girls crying.

Everything that has happened hits Dean like a kick to the chest. He knows he should be feeling _something_ , but all that he is feel is just…numb, empty. He knows he needs to check and see if Michael is gone. He knows he needs to do _something_ , but he has no fucking clue what to do.

Breathe. He needs to fucking breathe, and take this one step at a time.

Dean slowly rises from the bed, Emma startles and tightens her grip around his neck. Claire follows his movements, not breaking her arms around his middle. He glances down at her wavy, blond hair, and grits his teeth. He needs to fucking say something. His pups must be losing their minds, and he isn’t doing anything. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Claire.” His voice scratches his throat. Dean coughs, trying to clear his throat. “Baby, listen, daddy is going to go-“

“Don’t leave me, papa!” She wails, hands clutching his shirt. Emma’s sobs increase in volume at her sisters cries.

“Shhh, baby. Shhhh.” Dean pets Claire’s hair, and kisses the top of Emma’s. “ _We_ , okay? _We_ need to go downstairs and get into the car, ya? Can you do that for me?”

Claire nods her head, looking up at Dean with bright, blue eyes. He tries to give her a smile, but is pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. He walks back over to the door, unlocking it, opening it slowly. Dean pauses for a moment, trying to listen for anything downstairs. Emma sniffles loudly and Dean forces his legs to move forward, down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom, he braces himself for anything. He looks around the living room for anything lurking in the shadows. Seeing nothing, he herds his girls into the kitchen to put on their shoes. Dean grabs his wallet and car keys, eyes darting around nervously, daring anything to attack.

Emma starts screaming, kicking her feet wildly, simply melting down with everything that’s happened and all the scents. Claire’s body starts shaking for another onslaught of hysterics. _Keep moving_. Dean tells himself. _You have to keep them moving._

“Girls, hey.” He says calmly, reaching down to pick his thrashing pup up. “Let’s get into the car. We’re going for a car ride, okay? Let’s get buckled.”

Emma bucks in his arms, screaming, pounding her little fists into his side. Claire stumbles out the door, tripping over her feet to the passenger door. Dean manages to lock their door, despite his pup melting down in his arms. Emma sinks her teeth into his arm just as he slides the key out of the lock.

Dean barely feels any pain, wrapping his arm around her tightly, trying to give her a “tight hug”. The pup resists until they get to the car, and he slips her in seat, securing her buckle over her thrashing body. Her claws rake over his skin, and he doesn’t even try to stop her. He briefly kicks himself for keeping one of her weighted blankets in the car.

Dean gets into the driver’s seat, starting the car. He glances in the review mirror and sees Michael’s red van across the street, sitting there. He pulls out his phone, typing out number before he has time to think about it. Meg’s name pops up and he just stares.

“Papa?” A broken, little voice whispers. “Where are we going?”

Claire’s shaky voice breaks through the numb overtaking his body, and he quickly deletes the number. Dean types in a different number, pushing send. He puts his car in gear, backing out of the driveway slowly. He passes Michael’s van right as a laughing voice picks up.

“Hey stranger, what’s up?”

“Ellen, I don’t know where to go. He’s still-“

“Dean, slow down. Where to go from where?” She asks, all laughter dropping from her voice.

“Michael was visiting Emma. Things got bad, Ellen. Things got really bad. We fought and he…” Dean bites his lip, eyes glancing in the review mirror to see if he was being followed. “He hit me. I hit him back, the girls are losing their shit. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

“First, you need to calm down, boy. You need to call the police.” She replies, sternly.

“I left. He’s still outside my apartment, I couldn’t just stay there!”

“Get yourself to the police station.”

Dean scoffs, glaring out at the road in front of him. “The police won’t do jack shit for someone like me.”

“They aren’t going to turn a blind eye when pups are involved. Get your butt down there, and I’ll meet you there.”

“But-“

“I said get! I’m already on my way.” Ellen hangs up as he turns left, heading for the police station.

Dean knows he should be able to trust that the police will do the right thing, that’s what they’re supposed to be there for, right? But in all his past experiences, they had never once believed him. They have never once helped him, or his pups, in any way. Simply wrote down his statements, asked their few questions, and he was simply excused as a overly hormonal omega, trying to wrongly accuse some “poor alpha” or “harmless beta”. So why now? Even with things that happened with Claire during her time at her fathers, or his pups when Michael’s son raped them, would the police actually do something now? What made this time any different than the times before?

He was omega, and being omega automatically made him some hormonal driven, whiney bitch. Nothing could possibly be what he said it was, and any marks he had on him were just because he “had it coming”, or “self inflicted”. Dean grips the steering wheel tighter, stopping at the last light before the police station. He wishes Meg were here. She would know exactly how to handle this whole shitty situation. She would know exactly what to say or what to do to calm his pups. Fuck! What kind of a parent was he if he couldn’t even calm down his own kids?

Doubt begins to snake its way into his mind as he replays what just happened. Did Michael really hit him, or was he just imagining things? Dean licks his lips, feeling a cut sting on the bottom. Would they believe him? Maybe Michael had just been trying to push him back and accidently hit him? Michael had never actually physically harmed him before, why now? The whole town knew him as a passive guy, and Dean was a…well, the town knew what he was.

“Did he really hit me?” He whispers, mind replaying everything.

Dean slams his fists down on his steering wheel making Emma scream louder in the backseat. Claire chokes out a sob, and Dean kicks himself for not getting his emotions in check. The car must reek of anger and self loathing. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he pulls into the small parking lot, circling until he finds an open spot.

He turns off the car and exits slowly. Claire tumbles out of her door as Dean slips around to the other side gathering up Emma in his arms. She clings to him, face buried deep into his neck scenting him. She mumbles out “I’m sorry daddy. I didn’t mean to bite you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Dean strokes her hair, and tries his best to take another deep breath, attempting to calm his emotions. They start walking towards the front door just as Ellen pulls up in her black suv, and calmly climbs out.

“Come here baby girl.” She says, opening up her arms as Claire runs into them. “Shhh now. It’s okay, honey.”

Dean swallows thickly, trying to push down his emotions. With a nod from Ellen, he opens the door and they walk through. The smell of scent neutralizers and sanitizers fills his nose making him gag. Emma lets out a shaky sigh as he approaches a thick glass wall.

“Can I help you?” A round man with glasses asks.

“I need-“ Dean coughs, trying to clear his head from the smell. “I need to talk to someone.”

The man looks him up and down, eyes resting on his pup. “About what?”

“I was hit.” He replies, shifting Emma so she was more on his side, away from the man’s eyes.

“Uh huh, well, sit right over there in those seats and someone will be down for you soon.” He replies, turning around in his chair, going back to typing at his computer.

Dean turns to sit down in the seat beside where Ellen and Claire are occupying. Ellen strokes Claire’s hair as she rests her head in Ellen’s lap, blue eyes spilling out silent tears as she stares blankly forward at nothing. Dean heavily sits down beside them, moving Emma so she sits in his lap.

***

“Did she answer, papa?” Claire asks snapping another glow stick into life.

Dean tilts his head at the screen, rereading over the messages he’s sent to Meg in the last twenty-four hours. A cold chill begins to spread throughout his chest and he shudders, trying to shake it away. It’s one hundred and four degrees outside, why is he feeling cold? Dean eyes the icon that indicates she hasn’t even looked at them yet. It is weird. Meg always checks her phone. Now that they had been apart, they had a two call rule. If one of them doesn’t pick up the first time and they called back a second time, they _had_ to pick up. It meant it was an emergency or important. He had Skyped her twice. Sent a few pictures, and messaged her a few times. Still nothing.

“No baby, she didn’t answer the Skype call.” He smiles at her as she bends the glow stick into some sort of shape.

“The fireworks seem different without her.” She says lifting her head up staring at Emma blowing bubbles in the grass.

“Maybe she’ll pick up when the fireworks start going off.” Dean says, ruffling her hair.

“Daddd!” She whines pulling away. “So not cool!”

Dean laughs, slipping his phone into his pocket chasing after her.

The next day at work, Dean’s phone starts ringing. Confused, he pulls it out and sees Meg’s dad’s name. He swipes accept, and ducks behind a pallet of mulch, far out of the way of cameras.

“Hello?” He whispers.

“Dean…” The man breathes.

“Uh, yes sir. Is everything okay? Is Meg-“

“She isn’t okay.”

Dean stares out in front of him, blankly. The cold that had been nudging him for the past day and a half begins to spread throughout his chest. He suddenly feels cold all over. So fucking cold.

“Listen, I know how much Meg meant to you and how much you two talked. Her mother and I know you needed to know, Dean.” His voice breaks as tears prickle at the corners of Dean’s eyes. “She’s gone.”

His legs give out underneath him, but he barely feels any pain as his knees connect with the hard cement. “She’s…She’s gone.”

“Her pup found her yesterday morning…She ran across the street, called 911, but by the time they got here…Dean, she was already gone. It had been hours…”

Dean tries to take in a breath, but his chest hurts and lungs burn at the attempt. He feels like his insides are squeezing together trying to suffocate him-no, stab him- from the inside. Everything feels cold. He feels so fucking cold.

“We just thought, with you two being so close, that you needed to know.” He pauses, taking in a shaky breath. “Meg would want you to know.”

“Thank you. I mean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for your loss.” His words come out on automatic, mind shutting itself off. What the fuck are you suppose to say with something like this?

“I have to go. The memorial will be back at home. We’ll be in touch.”

Dean clicks the line dead, phone slipping out of his fingers. A sob escapes from his lips as he bends forward, dry heaving. He feels pain spreading everywhere inside him. It courses through his veins; he _feels_ it pumping through his heart. His heart physically feels like its beating shattered bits through him, each piece scraping along his insides. He gags again, squeezing his eyes shut. Everything is too bright. Everything is too much.

Dean rubs his face, trying to stop the tears falling from his eyes. Another wave of nausea and pain hits him, and he clutches his chest trying to just fucking _breathe_. Everything is so, so cold. He doesn’t feel like he will ever be warm again. She can’t be dead. She can’t be fucking dead!

“You’re not allowed to die.” Dean whispers, hoarsely. “You were supposed to show me the ocean, for the first time. You fucking promised me!” Another sobs painfully escapes, leaving him gasping for air. “Everyone always breaks their promises and leaves, Meg. You never did that. You aren’t suppose to be like them! You can’t leave…” Dean slams his fist on the cement, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as his body shakes with sobs. “Please don’t leave me. Please come back. I can’t do this without you. I need you! I need you…”

Eventually, Dean gets to his feet, forcing himself to go back to lifting bags of mulch to their proper place. He has a job to do, after all. If life taught him anything, mourning at home doesn’t pay the bills. Getting this job was hard enough for him, and leaving early won’t look good. He has pups to take care of, he reminds himself.

All his movements are on autopilot. Dean feels his lips quivering and bites down on his bottom lip trying to still them. The tears flow freely, and even if he wants to, he is unable to stop them.

Everything turns from the never-ending cold to a emotionless numb after a few weeks. Pain is ever-present and he greets it each morning with crusty, tear caked eyes. Dean has no idea what a mating bond feels like when broken when the mate dies, theirs was only a scent bond, but it feels like he’s fucking dying. He is pretty sure some part of him has died with Meg, and he is never going to be whole again. Some part of him knows it wouldn’t be right if he was ever whole again, anyway.

She was not only his only true friend, but his family. Meg was his pups other parent. She was the stubborn voice of reason when he wanted to lash out recklessly. Meg had never given up on him, even at his weakest. She knew most of his story, and never judged. She never pried for more than he offered. She loved him for who he was, wholly. She had this undying hope-no, not hope- she fucking _knew_ he was worth more than the world told him he was. She never gave up, no matter how shitty the outlook was. She would push him to do better, even if he swore he wasn’t ready. Meg was his light in this dark, unjust world. And now Dean’s light was gone. All that’s left was darkness, cold, pain and…nothing.

***

“-sly? The chief is going to kick your ass! He’s an omega! At least pretend to be a professional.” A loud voice whispers.

“Shut up and let me do my fucking job. It’s a domestic and he has pups. Let’s at least try and treat him like a regular fucking human being. How long have they even been waiting, Ishim? You know what, don’t even answer that. Too long, that’s how long.” A deep voice growls sending a shiver through Dean.

“What does it even matter? We get at least a dozen of these calls a day, all the same bullshit, you know that. You can’t save them all. Most of them bring it on themselves, anyway.” Dean hears a sigh and some shuffling. “Did you even put on blockers?” Another pause and more rustling. “You can’t do your job if you reek like alpha, for fucks sake. Here. At least put on the damn blockers.”

A snarl echoes down the hall making Dean flinch a little. He sniffs the air, trying to get anything from the two arguing. He only smells cleaning supplies and neutralizers.

“Sir?” The deep voice calls from around the corner at the end of the hallway. “If you would just step over here to talk.”

Dean looks up from the top of Emma’s red hair to see a frazzled, dark haired looking man standing a ways down the hallway. He passes Emma slowly over to Ellen, and starts slowly walking down the hallway, looking down at the checkered board tiles. Halfway down, Dean slowly raises his eyes to the officer. His breath catches as he locks eyes with the bluest damn eyes he’s ever seen.

Dean hears the officer’s breath hitch, and he watches those unreal blue eyes look him up and down slowly. When Dean finally reaches him, he can smell the faintest hint of pine, cinnamon, and something else he too faint to place. Even with it being the barest hint, his nostrils flare and his body involuntarily sways forward trying to scent the man. Dean stops himself and shifts his feet trying to play off the movement. He bites down on his lip to try and control himself.

The officer stares at him with wide eyes, rubbing at the scent neutralizers peeking out of his nostrils. They almost look like a nose ring the way it loops around. Every time Dean ends up face to face with an officer he always catches himself wondering if they would hurt being yanked out. Dean takes in the man’s wild, untamed dark hair and wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. He shakes his head and clears his throat. What the fuck is wrong with him? He just got into it with his ex, and this, of all places, is no place to be fantasizing about the cop in front of him.

“Dean.” He mumbles. “Dean Winchester.”

The officer blinks at him, still messing with the neutralizers in his nose.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be a dick, but are you new or something? Maybe you want to get someone-“

A low growl coming from the officer has Dean shutting his mouth, and baring his neck without thinking about what he is doing.

“Damnit!” He hears the man grumble. “These fucking things aren’t working right.”

Realizing he is standing there, baring his neck to some random alpha, he snaps his head up. Heat floods his face with embarrassment. He has never bared his throat for anyone-Michael and Claire’s dads included. No matter who they were or what they smelled like, no one had ever made him have that reaction. Not even in the worst of his heat has he degraded himself like that. He still had some self control to not let himself get into _that_ type of situation.

“I’m sorry.” The man says, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “I don’t know what the hell is going on. I didn’t mean to, uh, startle you or anything.” He says carefully. “I don’t know what that was about.”

Dean nods sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I know my scent probably isn’t the greatest or anything, so if you just want to get someone else whose nose rings things are working it can save everyone some discomfort.”

The officer is in his personal space before Dean has time to react. The smell of pine, cinnamon and that other scent that’s on the tip of his tongue floods his senses. A soft whine escapes his lips before he can stop it.

“No one else is coming near you.” His blue eyes flash red for a moment.

Dean’s mouth runs dry as he tries to form words. Slick trickles out of him in response to alpha protectiveness. Dean silently curses his body, hating it even more than he already does. He watches the man’s eyes darken and fangs poke out from his full lips. He’s seen alpha’s posturing and possessive before. In his past line of work, it is unheard of to not see an alpha get like that. But this, this is different. To Dean, usually alpha’s scents are unappealing; too strong or just flat out wrong, even border lining on disgusting. Alphas themselves usually scare him enough to leave a good distance between them.

Still, even though the station is sprayed to keep scents neutral or muted and everyone calm, and he’s pretty sure that Ishim person sprayed him with blockers. But Dean can smell him. He doesn’t want to think about how the alphas scent is reaching him, the thought terrifies him. Even if he hasn’t overheard the previous conversation, he _knows_ the man in front of him is an alpha. Dean knows and isn’t disgusted or afraid. His body, if anything, is attempting to try and seduce the man to come closer.

Dean watches the officer’s eyes trail down to his lips, then slowly move upwards, locking eyes with him once more. He knows he needs to get away from the alpha before something they’ll both regret happens, but everything in his stupid pathetic omega genes is screaming at him to submit.

The officer leans in closer, and Dean tries to take a step back only realizing he is already back against a wall. The man places his hands on either side of his head, leaning close enough their foreheads almost touch. The officer is panting, his warm breath tickling over Dean’s lips. Dean licks his lips out of habit, and the officer responds with a low growl in his chest. His eyes flash red again as Dean feels his fangs extend in response. 

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble.” Dean’s voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat for the millionth time. “Just let me-“

He gasps as the man’s head dips down to his neck. The officer’s stubble rubs against his neck sending electricity buzzing through Dean’s body, and he lets out another whine. The man’s nose whistles slightly around his neutralizers as he takes in a deep breath.

“Rain.” The man’s voice sounds absolutely wrecked. Dean automatically moves his head slightly so his neck is more accessible. “Rain, the earth after it’s rained and…” His nose whistles as he breathes in again, rubbing it against Dean’s scent gland. “Smoke. Campfire smoke.”

Meg’s scent.

He swallows thickly, battling so many emotions rising up all at once. So many emotions he has refused to let himself feel for months. On top of the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, his body feels warm. Too warm. Almost like he’s going into heat warm. Dean knows his boxers are soaked through with all the slick he’s leaking, but no matter how hard he’s trying he cannot find it in him to care. The alpha’s lips barely brush against his neck, and Dean’s body shivers at the connection.

He only realizes then that his hands are hanging lifeless at his sides doing nothing to stop what’s happening. He wonders if trying to push the man back would only cause him to advance more. His thoughts are at war with his body, and it’s almost getting too hard to think. Dean squeezes his eyes shut trying to ignore the alpha's warm breath against his neck, and how wet he is getting. He tries to move his body to the side, but the alpha only closes the space between them with a warning growl. Dean bites his lip trying to clear his head as he feels the alpha's dick through their pants rubbing against his thigh. His body moves forward a tiny bit, rubbing his own hard dick against the officer’s bulge.

“Your scent is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever smelled.” He whispers. “How is it possible I can smell you?”

“Please, alpha.” Dean begs, unsure exactly what he’s asking for at this point.

“Castiel?” A voice says somewhere off to the side. “What the fuck! Castiel get off him!”

The man, Castiel Dean guesses, is yanked off him leaving him feeling instantly cold and exposed. He watches Castiel fight against the other man’s arms, eyes red and claws extended.

“No!” He snarls fighting against the arms holding him back. “You don’t understand! He’s my omega! Get off me!”

Dean doesn’t know what else to do but stare blankly as two other men come out of the doors; one helping hold him back while another jabs a needle into his neck. Castiel’s eyes go wide, red seeping away back into blue. Dean watches the alpha's body still and fall limp into two other officers arms. They drag him through the doors as the other officer who stabbed him with the needle shakes his head slowly at the closed door.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” He asks turning around to face Dean.

Dean stares at man in front of him then back over to the doors. The man lets out a frustrated sigh and crosses his arms over his uniform. “Listen, I really don’t have time to bullshit around trying to figure out what is going through your head. So unless you want me to lock you up for sexual advancing and assaulting an officer, just tell me what happened.”

“He, uh.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose trying to stop his heart from pounding out of his chest. His body feels like it’s screaming for the heat he felt with the alpha-Castiel- pushed against him. “He could smell me.” Dean points to his nose and waves his hand. “Through those things you’re wearing. He said they weren’t working right, or something, and well…”

The officer raises an eyebrow, looking Dean up and down quickly. “I don’t smell you.” His nostrils flare for a moment, then shrugs. “So you’re telling me Castiel started this? Just up and forced himself on you, and you didn’t try and seduce him?”

Dean narrows his eyes at the cop. This was normal. This he expected. This he could handle. “Look, the guy didn’t even touch me. Not really, at least. I wouldn’t say he forced anything on me, but I sure as hell didn’t do anything. I didn’t even fucking touch the guy!”

“Watch your language, omega. I happen to know exactly who you are, and what you’ve been in here before, Dean.” The officer’s voice dips dangerously low, and Dean glares at him in response. “We’ll get his story when he wakes up in about ten minutes, and I get to enjoy locking up your lying ass. Now.” He claps his hands together. “I’m officer Lucifer. What was Castiel helping you with?”

Dean rubs a hand over his face hiding his eye roll. “I came in here because my ex came to visit our daughter at my apartment and-“

“Alpha or beta?” Lucifer asks, pulling out a pad of paper and pen from his vest pocket.

“Beta.” He hisses. “So he came over after we fought on the phone and he was angry. I asked him to leave, and he got up in my face. He was holding-“

“Name?”

“What? You know my name.” Dean growls.

“The beta, your ex. Name.” He replies condescendingly.

“Michael.” Dean spits out. “Anyway, so he was holding my daughter and wouldn’t put her down and-“

“He was holding your daughter, and wouldn’t put her down?” Lucifer chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess, the beta hit you.”

Dean grits his teeth hard, squeezing his fingers into tight fists, trying to calm his emotions. “Yes. He looked like he was going to take Emma and run. He wouldn’t give her back. So I-“

“Go into that room and sit down.” Lucifer yells down the hall, waving someone off to the side.

Dean glances behind him to see none other than Michael walking in the station. Obeying the officer, he walks off the side where another officer is holding open a door for him. He looks over to the chairs making sure his pups weren’t bothered by seeing him. Luckily, Emma’s back was to the front door, and Claire is sitting there, glaring through her hair at the door Michael walked through.

“That was him.” Dean says turning back to the officer. “That’s my ex.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “And any reason you can come up with to why he might be waltzing into a police station?”

“I was trying to get my daughter back, and I scratched him. When he hit me, I hit him back.” Dean sighs again. “He wouldn’t let-hey!”

A bright light shines in his face, and he throws up his hands trying to block it out. “Apologies, I need to see if there are any marks.”

Dean drops his hands and squints at the bright LED light. “Satisfied?”

“I don’t see any marks.” He clicks off the flashlight and writes something down on his pad of paper. “Alright, let me go take down Michael’s statement. Go sit back where you were and-“

“My daughter saw the whole thing!” Dean says, grabbing Lucifer’s arm. “Claire, my oldest, she saw him hit me. This isn’t some bullshit story!”

He narrows his eyes over at Dean’s pups, jerking his arm away. “Fine. I’ll talk to the girl then collect the statement from Michael. Now go sit down.”

The walk back down the hallway seems longer than it should be. Ellen raises an eyebrow in question as he takes Emma back in his arms and sits down. Dean shakes his head hugging his whining pup against him.

“Claire, baby.” Dean says smiling over to her. Her eyes glance at him then back at the door Michael went through. “Listen, the officer that just talked with me wants to ask you a few questions. That okay?”

“Claire, wanna come over here with me?” Lucifer interrupts, holding out a hand.

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck raises, and he has to swallow down a protective growl. Claire nods, accepting the hand, and rises off the bench. Dean watches them walk a few feet away, and Lucifer begins to talk. Dean has to give it to the guy, he seems to be acting like a halfway decent human. Hardly a minute passes and Lucifer dismisses her, turning around to disappear behind the door Michael is waiting. Claire sits back down, cuddling close to Ellen.

Ellen leans over to his hear, dropping her voice to where Claire shouldn’t be able to overhear. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Winchester.”

Dean nods in response, focusing on brushing out the knots in Emma’s hair with his fingers. Somewhere in the area there is a clock. An annoying clock ticking away every second. Every tick sounds louder and louder in the quiet hallway. He grits his teeth, shifting in his seat suddenly antsy. Dean wants nothing more than to take the chair he’s sitting on and smash the clock. He pulls at his collar around his neck suddenly doing nothing more than causing him to itch. He feels sweat beginning to form on his forehead, and adjusts himself on the uncomfortable seat.

“Dean.” Ellen’s voice snaps him out of the trance he was in. “You look really flushed. You need some water?”

He shakes his head, holding out Emma to Ellen. “M’fine. Just really hot in here.”

She accepts the pup, and moves her to the opposite side of her sister. “Temperature is fine.” She tilts her head, eyes narrowing at Dean. “When was your last heat?”

“’Bout two weeks ago. You know that, you had the girls.” Dean huffs, rubbing his arms. “This isn’t that.”

“Looks like it. I can smell your slick.” She states casually.

“Fucking awesome! Like it wasn’t embarrassing enough you-“

“Don’t you sass off to me, boy.” Ellen points a finger at him. “Whatever happened down there isn’t none of my business unless it involves these girls, or you feel like sharing. I’m only statin’ the facts. I’m a beta and I smell ya, and it smells like you’re in heat.”

Dean huffs, crossing his arms and starts pacing. If his face could flush anymore, it probably would. But right now his whole body feels like he’s sitting in a sauna, and sweat is starting to form everywhere. Every time his clothes rub against his skin, it feels like sandpaper. He wants nothing more than to just rip everything he’s in off.

“Anxious about something?”

Dean snaps his head up, accidently letting out a warning growl. He freezes, slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He mumbles around his hand. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I didn’t-“

“Didn’t I already give you a warning, Dean?” Lucifer asks, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Yes sir.” He says, head dropping down slightly.

“Excuse me, officer.” Ellen calls from the seats, loudly. “But I got two pups here who really need to be gettin’ home with their papa. Now if you’d hurry this along so we’re not wasting anymore of anyone’s time.”

Lucifer nods to her, then looks back at Dean, facing falling cold. “Everyone’s stories are much in the same. Michael has scratches, marks, and blood all over him. I’m not exactly sure what you are trying to get out of this-coming here-but by the looks of things Michael would be the one needing to press chargers.” He glances back over to Ellen. “Which he does not want to do.”

Dean stares at him, mouth gaping. After a moment he closes it, then opens it again. He hears Ellen get off the seat behind him, and feels the temperature rise about a hundred more degrees as she steps beside him.

“So that’s it then? Man tryin’ ta take his pup is okay? Self defense is frowned upon?” Ellen challenges.

“I have to go off what people tell me, ma’am. The stories are pretty much the same. According to the pup and Michael, Dean attacked first.” Lucifer straightens a bit, pushing out his chest. “The law is the law, and I’m sorry the ome- _Dean_ \- got the wrong idea out of the whole thing, but Michael says he didn’t want to hand his pup over to him angry.”

“Huh, funny thing about this ‘law’ you go on about. Seems like it ain’t helping no one that needs the help.” She nudges Dean in the side, and he flinches at the contact. All his body seems hyper aware of the smallest thing. “C’mon boy. Let’s get these girls home.”

Dean turns, following Ellen to the door on autopilot. The friction of his drying slick inside his boxers, and the rough fabric is still managing to somehow make his dick get hard. He bites down on his lip, _hard_ , only then realizing his fangs are extended.

“I’m gunna take the girls with me.” Ellen says turning around eyeing him. “Like it or not, your heats starting and they don’t need to be witness to that.”

“Thanks Ellen.” He says hoarsely. “I really don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”

“Cycle probably just got messed up some way or another. It happens.” She pushes Claire towards him. “Quick hugs now. Daddy will see you soon.”

Emma reaches out her hands, fingers opening and closing. Immediately when Dean grabs her, he regrets his decision. The kid is like a fucking furnace and suddenly weighs about a hundred pounds. Claire just waves and gets into the back of Ellen’s SUV, knowing exactly what’s going on with him.

“Okay, okay little girl.” Ellen carefully, but quickly, takes Emma away from Dean. “Daddy isn’t feeling so good baby. We gotta let him go so he can feel better.”

Emma nods once and then lets out an ear piercing howl. Ellen shakes her head at the pup walking over to strap her into her seat. “You need to get home. It’s hitting you pretty fast.”

“Thanks, Ellen. Seriously. For everything.” He says, waving to his sobbing pup and quiet teenager.

“We take care of our own.” She closes the door and nods towards his car. “Now get.”

Dean stumbles away from Ellen and his pups, over to his car. Every step is another brush of fabric against his half hard dick. He whines as he reaches the driver’s side door, pushing his palm down on the bulge in his pants.

Dean doesn’t hear footsteps behind him, only feels a strong hand gripping his shoulder and spinning him around without warning. He catches a blur of blue eyes before a hot mouth is quickly on his. Dean moans as the smell of cinnamon, pine, and _home_ -the other smell is home- fills his nose. Slick spills out from Dean as he wraps his arms around Castiels neck pulling their bodies impossibly closer together.

Instead of the alphas touch making his skin want to melt off, it has the opposite effect. It seems to cool the burn running down his arm. Dean rubs his body against the man’s, seeking more of the relief from the heat. Dean gasps as his aching hard dick trapped inside his jeans rubs against the alphas swelling length. He digs his fingernails into Castiels hair, pushing their lips harder together.

His tongue runs over Castiel’s fangs, and he receives a little nip in response. Dean’s whole body shudders as the alpha takes his tongue into his mouth and sucks on it. Dean rocks his hips against the alpha, his body begging for any sort of friction.

Castiel breaks free from Dean’s lips, panting, eyes the most vibrant red. He squeezes them tightly shut, shaking his head. When he looks up again the red is gone, and Castiel’s normal bright electric blue is hardly visible, pupils blown. They search Dean’s hazed over gaze, as if searching for all the answers to the universe. His deep, gravelly voice finally purrs out a greeting. “Mate. You smell like mate.”

Dean curls his fingers deeper into the back of the man’s wild, untamed hair, letting a soft smile form. “Home. You smell like home.”

He watches red flash over the blue again, before the alpha shakes his head and backs up a bit. Dean tries to close in the space again, only to have a strong hand push on his chest stopping him.

“I wont…I can’t…” Castiel pants, shaking his head again. “Dean, I only have so much self control. Smelling how utterly incredible you are earlier seems to have set off my rut, and my actions were inexcusable. But I will not-“

“Hey, no, I get it. Trust me.” Dean waves a hand over his sweat soaked clothes. “Heat suddenly hit.”

“You don’t think…” Castiel tilts his head, squinting at Dean.

“My heat isn’t due for another two weeks, at least.” Dean says slowly, biting his lip nervously.

“My rut isn’t supposed to happen again for another two months.” Castiel’s eyes go wide as his hand drops. “But, it can’t-I mean, it’s…impossible.”

It takes every ounce of willpower and self control not to run the small distance into the alpha’s arms again. He feels the warmth inside him building again, laced with the heavy feeling of rejection to top it off. The alpha looks like he’s either disgusted at the thought of what Dean might be to him, or appalled that the universe would do this. Either way it fucking hurts.

“Nah. That’s some old faerie tales pups are told so they don’t feel like shit if they designate omega. Someone out there for everyone bullshit” Dean licks his lips, eyes almost fluttering closed as he tastes the alpha on him. He rolls them instead, turning around to face his car as a stab of rejection stabs him through the heart. “Probably just some virus or something knocking our cycles off.”

“I could smell you through my neutralizers” Castiel’s gravelly voice whispers behind him.

Dean shrugs, fingers tracing the door handle. Despite the pain spreading in his chest at the rejection, more slick is relentlessly trickling out of him. He almost groans as he feels it trickling down his leg. “I…I really need to get going.” Dean grabs the handle, pulling it open with a loud squeak.

“Wait.” Castiel says, voice hinted with alpha authority. Dean grits his teeth as his dick twitches in his jeans like the traitor it is. He pauses moving forward, hating the man and his stupid fucking power he has over him. “The thought of you leaving and never seeing you again is…it’s physically painful.”

Dean squeezes his hands into fists taking a slow breath through his mouth. He lets it out slowly, feeling no less calm. Unable to do anything, he stares down at his leather seat and just tries to will the situation to go away.

Castiel is suddenly right there behind him, arms sliding around his waist, pulling his body flush against his. Dean’s traitorous body arches into his, as he gasps feeling the alphas cock pushing against his ass. Never in his life has he hated clothing so much. “I don’t want to be anywhere without you.” The alpha whispers roughly into his ear. “Come with me, omega. Please.”

“Yes.” Dean pants out, shamefully rubbing his ass against the alpha. “Yes, fuck, _please_ , alpha. Take me with you.”

The alpha nips at the edge of Dean’s ear, and he moans as another wave of slick falls out. Suddenly Dean is spinning around, and Castiel’s mouth is on his again. Their teeth click together as they chase each others tongues back and forth.

Someone loudly clears their throat enough to pull Dean out of his heat haze. He pulls away from Castiel’s mouth enough to see Lucifer standing there, gun raised, eyes wild. Dean feels the growl vibrating through Castiel before he hears it. Lucifer just cocks and eyebrow, unmoving.

“Get away from the whore, Castiel.” He spits.

Despite the heat clouding Dean’s senses and poor choices, his vision clears, but only slightly. He is aware enough to realize Castiel is pushing him behind his back, protecting him. The two men are staring at each other, just daring someone to move first.

“He is a person, just like everyone else, designation be damned.” Castiel snarls. “Or have you forgotten what the badge actually stands for? You’re pulling out a gun on an officer, Luc. Think about this.”

A sudden cramp spasms though Dean’s midsection and he collapses to his knees, gasping in pain. He feels his temperature instantly begin to rise and boil inside him. He thinks he hears Castiel saying his name, but another cramp clenches at his insides and Dean cannot help but let out a cross between a whine and a hiss. In all his years of having heats since fourteen, one has never come this quickly and been so painful. He curls up tighter into himself on the ground, trying to focus on breathing.

The air reeks of alpha aggression. Something smelling like burnt sugar cookies hits his nose, and he gags. He hears Lucifer laughing and lifts his head up enough to peek at the alpha still holding the gun at them.

“You have no idea who he is, little brother.” Lucifer chuckles lowering the gun to where Dean is laying. “He’s been picked up gods knows how many times for prostitution, domestic, and countless other misdemeanors. He spreads his legs for anyone, so what makes you think you’re so special? What little line did he feed you to get you all hot and bothered?” Dean hears the safety click off, and squeezes his eyes shut as another cramp overcomes him.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen very carefully.” Castiel’s voice drips with alpha authority making Dean whine. “You need to put the gun away. Seeing as you know I’m in rut, and you’re threatening my mate, everything is screaming at me to come over there and rip your throat out with my teeth.”

“You…with this trash?!” Dean squints open an eye to see Lucifer gaping at Castiel, gun still pointed down at him. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me! That type of crap is just old wives tales!”

“Put the gun down!” Castiel snarls, widening his stance. Dean looks up at the alpha to see his dangerously long, pointed claws twitching.

“Or I can do the world a favor and get rid of the omega whore filling your head with lies! Think about it, Castiel! It will put you out of your misery thinking you’re mated to this filth! It’s for the greater good!”

Another cramp clenches his insides painfully. Dean brings up his arm and bites down on the sleeve of his shirt trying to muffle a scream. He can smell the faint copper tang of blood and wonders for the millionth time what is wrong with his body. Sweat drips down his face somehow igniting the fire inside him. Dean yearns for the cool relief he had moments ago with Castiel. 

Dean pries open his eyes enough to see Castiel yelling something at Lucifer, but it’s all too muffled to understand. He brings an arm up, reaching out for the alpha. Maybe if he just touches him, his body won’t feel like he’s being baked alive.

Right as his fingers brush the pant leg of the alpha, a loud bang explodes through his muffled world, shattering the almost silence. Noises. So many noises hit him all at once. Castiel is roaring, Lucifer is screaming, and…people. He hears other people screaming.

Dean lays there on his side, blinking at his arm lying limply in front of him. So close. He had been so close to touching the alpha and being able to feel somewhat human again. He blinks slower this time, suddenly feeling really tired. Castiel and Lucifer have suddenly gone quiet. He tries to move to see if Castiel is okay, but the slightest move has him howling out in pain.

Then he smells it. Overpowering the alpha rage is the scent of his own blood. And a lot of it.

He grits his teeth, looking down to see how bad it is. Blood is oozing out from his abdomen onto the cement under him. Dean numbly moves his hand over the leaking area, applying pressure to himself. All he can seem to think is how grateful he is that the cramping has stopped. 

Gentle hands are lifting his head and his placed on something soft. Dean blinks up as a shadow falls over him. Ocean blue eyes fill his vision. A slow smile pulls at the edges of his lips as he loses himself in those eyes. Dean’s only real wish for himself was to see the ocean before he died.

He takes his hand away from his wound, and rubs his thumb over the alphas rough stubble, smearing blood over the cheek. “Your eyes are like the ocean.” His voice comes out rough and quiet. Castiel rests his hand over Dean’s, rubbing his face against his palm briefly, but intimately. The alpha leans forward pushing his other hand into Dean’s wound. 

“Listen to me, Dean. You’re going to be fine, omega.” Castiel says.

He sounds so confident and sure of himself, Dean almost believes him. The way his body is suddenly feeling very heavy, and eyes slip close makes him think otherwise

Dean has always prided himself on surviving. Anything that was ever thrown at him, no matter how impossible it seemed, he always seems to find a way to get through it. Always, time and time again, he chose to keep fighting. He’s been fighting since he’s been fourteen, and every day is a battle.

Right now, Dean feels exhausted. All those years of fighting to stay alive, battling to just simply _exist_ is just too much. He feels like he could sleep until forever and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Something or someone jostles his head and he pries his heavy eyelids open a sliver. He too bright lights burn his eyes, and he squeezes them shut again. He hears Castiel’s deep voice yelling at him, but it seems too far away to make out proper words. He hears an annoying beeping somewhere off to the side as something shakes whatever it is he is laying on.

He squints his eyes open again, making out blurry figures around him, swaying back and forth. He makes out Castiel beside him, face twisted in determination and fear. Dean tries to scent his surroundings to get a better read on everything, but only gets a nose full of oxygen and plastic.

“Stay with me, Dean. We’re almost there.” Castiel says, hand quickly brushing over his cheek.

The blurry figures (EMTs he’s assuming) knock Castiel’s hand back and busy around him. The swaying of the ambulance makes his head begin to feel fuzzy, and his vision spins. And then everything fades to a blissful, comforting, black.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos give me a high!  
> Let me know your comments, questions, and concerns.
> 
> Sidenote: Emotional and mental abuse is one of the worst things a person can go through. If you ever need an ear to listen, I am here. There is absolutely no reason for other people to belittle and degrade others into feeling worthless. A partnership/relationship should be equal in almost all things. You are their 90% when they can only 10%. And vise versa. If you feel like you are in a type of sitation that Dean was in, I can and will always be an ear to listen if you want to vent. There is also 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) if you want to talk to someone else. The facebook group, Destiel Port, has hundreds of people waiting with open arms to make your day a whole lot better, too.  
> Please remember you are not alone, and someone out there wakes up everyday just waiting to hear your voice. Someone who truly loves and respects you. You are stronger than you realize. And please, love, don't ever forget how far you've come and how beautiful you really are. Keep kicking ass and taking names, and please remember, Always Keep Fighting.


End file.
